For years, I preached stand-alone sermons, but after a while noticed I was whaling away at the same subject every Sunday, so began doing series preaching, carefully selecting varied themes so as not to repeat myself. But the weakness of series preaching is the vacation. One starts a new series, as I did three weeks ago, then doesn’t preach for several Sundays, and the forward momentum is lost. It’s been so long ago, you may not remember, but I began a sermon series on money, inviting us to think about our relationship with money, its role in our culture, and its power in our lives.
The day after giving that initial sermon, I received an email from a man saying he couldn’t wait until the next Sunday to hear the next message. I wrote back to him saying he’d have to wait two Sundays, since the next Sunday was a Fifth Sunday and I don’t speak on Fifth Sundays. I had forgotten Jackson was preaching last Sunday, so last Monday the same man wrote to ask why he hadn’t received my second sermon on money. I wrote back to him saying it would be yet another week, that it was Jackson’s turn to speak. Well, that’s no way to start a new venture. It reminded me of when I was a kid and we’d pack the car for family vacation, then Dad would stop at the IGA at the edge of town to buy cigarettes and chewing gum, and stay inside talking to the store owner for an hour, while we squirmed in the car, wanting to hit the road. But I’m pleased to say I’ve bought my cigarettes and chewing gum and am ready to commence our journey. Thank you for your patience.
When I was a kid, the librarian at the Danville library, Mrs. Cox, didn’t keep up with the literary trends, so many of the books I read growing up were out-of-date. Consequently, I grew up believing things that had been disproven, but word had not yet reached our town. Later, I was shocked to learn, among other things, that George Washington’s false teeth were not made of wood but from the teeth of enslaved persons, that Jesus wasn’t born on December 25th, and that waking sleepwalkers doesn’t kill them.
But the biggest myth I had to unlearn was the one I learned from reading Horatio Algier’s books, which peaked in popularity in the rest of America in the 1920s, but didn’t hit it big in Danville until the 1960s, just as I was learning to read. The themes of his books were twofold: a boy struggles to escape poverty through hard work and clean living, that’s the first theme, then meets a wealthy older gentleman, who admires the boy because of an act of bravery or honesty and gifts him with wealth, lifting him out of poverty. Never mind that these are contradictory themes: the first suggests one becomes wealthy through hard work, the second says one becomes wealthy through the generosity of a wealthy benefactor.
I tried both. I went to work as soon as I could mowing lawns and delivering newspapers, while simultaneously sucking up to every rich person I knew. Here’s the thing about it. Getting rich through hard work takes a long time, if it can be done at all. The world is full of people who’ve worked hard their entire lives, live frugally, but still struggle to make ends meet.
It’s much easier to suck up to a rich person and inherit a boatload of money when they die. But guess what, that doesn’t happen much either. When a rich person dies, most of their wealth stays within their family. In fact, tax laws and accounting structures tend to protect generational wealth from taxes, encouraging wealth to remain concentrated in the hands of a relative few. When we read about Warren Buffett and Bill Gates giving away their billions, we read about them because it is newsworthy. It is a deviation from the normal pattern and is consequently worthy of mention. We won’t wake up tomorrow morning and read, “Billionaire Leaves Fortune to Sons and Daughters.”
Nevertheless, the myths persist that vast wealth is attainable through hard work and/or the generosity of a wealthy benefactor. These myths persist because they serve a cultural and political purpose. First, it makes poverty the fault of the impoverished. The poor are poor because they do not work hard. Not because the game is rigged, not because there are persistent inequities that prevent whole categories of people from enjoying full participation in an economy. We tell ourselves people are poor because they are lazy. This is a terrible myth, usually rooted in racism, with no understanding or appreciation of the very real contributions of over-worked, under-paid people.
Another reason these myths of wealth persist is because they offer social elevation to the wealthy. Their importance in society is inflated, their contributions exaggerated, their power multiplied. Those who are wealthy become objects of admiration and veneration. They are worshipped.
We are encouraged to be like them and are told the only thing keeping us from being like them is our own lack of effort. They are elevated as models and examples. We lionize them, giving them influence and power far exceeding their abilities. We are encouraged to unfetter them so they can make more money, generating wealth and creating jobs that will eventually accrue to the benefit of the working class, though the promised benefits never seem to materialize. They don’t materialize because wealth doesn’t trickle down. Instead, it congregates in the hands of the few. But there is always an author like Horatio Algier or a radio personality like Rush Limbaugh or a podcaster like Charlie Kirk or a preacher like Joel Osteen who make a tidy fortune peddling the myth of virtuous wealth. If you question their conclusions, you are un-American, or a Communist, or an enemy of God. But I want to say that believing in equal access to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is the most American of principles.
Here’s the interesting thing about Horatio Algier’s books. They were fiction. They were make-believe characters living make-believe lives, earning make-believe fortunes, that during a time of huge wealth disparity were treated as fact. The real Horatio Algier was a Unitarian pastor fired from his pulpit for sexually molesting young boys. He then wrote books encouraging young boys to attach themselves to prosperous older men, thereby improving their lives. Color me skeptical.
Color me skeptical whenever the rich receive the lion’s share of government largesse, but never the poor and working class.
Color me skeptical whenever the immigrant poor are shown the door, but never the wealthy foreign investor who deigns to settle among us.
Color me skeptical whenever pastors suggest prosperity is a sign of God’s favor.
Color me skeptical whenever the wealthy do what they wish, while the poor suffer what they must.
I am not opposed to the person who wakens each morning, pursues a helpful and rewarding vocation, and lives to enjoy the blessings of their efforts. One day I’m going to retire, and I hope to enjoy the blessings of my efforts. I am opposed to the worship of wealth and the fawning treatment of those who hold it. I am opposed to economic and political systems that ensure the rich remain rich and the poor remain poor. I am opposed to the unequal distribution of opportunity. I am opposed to this odd belief that just because someone is rich, they are wiser than others, more virtuous than others, more deserving than others.
In the depths of the Great Depression, Franklin Roosevelt reminded us that “the test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little.” Today, we are witnessing the elimination of the modest provisions meant to help those who have so little. We will be an uglier nation for it. Horatio Algier was wrong. Hard work isn’t enough. If it were, every farm laborer in America would live in a mansion.
As Quakers, we seek an Eden not just for the fortunate few, but for the unfortunate many; a world of sufficiency for all, not extravagance for a handful. We labor for the dignity of all people, believing a person’s worth is not determined by their wealth, but by their humanity. We reject those cultural myths that elevate some and lower others. We commit our resources to the betterment of all people everywhere, within and beyond the borders of our land. We do not bow to wealth; we bow only to our sacred duty to love.
Philip Gulley is the author of the popular Harmony series and Unlearning God: How Unbelieving Helped Me Believe.
Discover my books, stories, and more by visiting Books by Philip Gulley
Contact Philip directly at philiphgulley@gmail.com
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It seems the worship of those who are wealthy and/or celebrity is at the heart of the scourge of capitalism and right wing evangelicals in our nation. When did not sharing so all can have enough and being empathetic become negative attributes? Thanks, again!!!
It's a pity it needs to be said.